


We'll take him

by KiaMianara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Fix-It of Sorts, I wasn't happy with how the books turned out, M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaMianara/pseuds/KiaMianara
Summary: What if Sirius arrived in Godric's Hallow and decided hunting Pettigrew was not nearly as important as taking care of Harry.





	We'll take him

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking with a friend the other day about how we like the world Rowling created, but how at the same time many of her story elements upset us. I won’t go into detail, but one of the things we felt strongest about was Harry living with the Dursley, specifically how the constant physical and mental abused was never resolved and actually aided by Dumbledore.
> 
> Now, let me start by saying that the original idea had merits; remove Harry from a world where one half wanted to kill him, the other celebrate him a hero, but the execution was abysmal. I forgot their names, but they had two Squibs living near the Dursleys who were supposed to keep an eye on him. Did really no one see the thin boy in rags shuffling about like a beaten dog and thought “well, that ain’t right”? I don’t know how exactly all the invitations to Hogwarts are written, but they knew to send a fuck ton of them, they addressed them to `cupboard under the stairs´, and really no one thought “something is not right here”? And then he finally gets away from the horrors only to be sent back? Are you fucking kidding me? Take away the magic and what do you have? A child from an abusive home who manages to finally get away only to be brought back and told to stay there, that’s what. No one cares if you’re abused or not, kid, and no one wants to hear about it. So shut up and stay put.  
> Great message, really. And don’t come me with that family protection magic thing. The Dursleys were never family. Blood-related, yes, but you can’t tell me a protection charm, born of primal, wild magic and the fierce love of a mother for her child, would be bound to genetics of all things. Harry was made to believe for eleven years that his mother had never loved him, and that had done nothing to curb the magic. It was bound to Harry’s blood, yes, (see: Voldi needing a blood ritual to overcome it), but not his genes, so literally any other place would have been better than the Dursleys as long as Harry could consider it his home. As it stands, growing up with them Harry never had the markings of an ordinary boy, much less a hero; he has the backstory of the next Dark Lord!
> 
> Alright, that turned into a longer rant than intended, but after having discussed that with my friend I stumbled by chance over this post http://blogginghaley.tumblr.com/post/134720171159/  
> We agreed that this was perfect, and I felt inspired to write a Harry Potter fanfiction, which I thought would never happen after I read that horrible epilogue (which is another matter I could rant about for ages), but here it is.
> 
> That said, have the story.

* * *

 

When Sirius Black arrived in Godric’s Hollow, he had to push his way through a gaggle of spectators, and not the usual gaggle starring at his flying motorcycle – not a levitating spell,, but an actual blend of muggle technology and magic he was extremely proud of – either. What anger he felt towards them for standing in his way paled in comparison to the tidal wave sweeping him away and pulling him under when he saw the ruins of what he had considered his home for as long as he cared to remember.

 

There wouldn’t be a family dinner today or ever again, and Sirius didn’t need to hear the people gossiping to know what happened and who was to blame. His first thought was to find that lying, grovelling, no good traitor of a rat and _destroy_ him. It was a need from deep within where Padfoot slept when he was Sirius, and someone really should have warned them that being an Animagus went deeper than skin and bone.

 

What he wouldn’t give to hear James laugh just one more time, teasing that it had nothing to do with magic unless one counted love.

 

The need to bite and tear was replaced with another when a second later Hagrid came out of the ruins, blind with tears, and holding a baby boy, hardly a year old. Sirius was with him in the blink of an eye, at once frustrated and touched that the Half-giant defended the baby with all his considerable might until he realised who was demanding to be handed the child.

 

Of all people, Sirius Black had the most right to hold little Harry, and he knew how to do it now even if he never quite stopped being afraid. Lily had shown him, back when Harry had still been nameless and even smaller and wrinkled and crying. He had panicked then, much like James had, and Lily had cursed up a storm, exhausted though she had been, complaining about a society and an educating-system that didn’t think to prepare fathers for their job.

 

She had shown him how to hold the baby, taught him and James that, yes, they needed to be careful, but a baby was no porcelain doll, and no, she didn’t know whose bright idea it had been to make a doll out of something so breakable, and would you two relax already?

 

Lily, kind and firm, always more a sister than a friend, just like James was a brother, always smart, always strong. And Harry wouldn’t get to know them because Pettigrew had betrayed them, but children could feel when those around them were upset and reacted to that, he had read, so Sirius controlled his breathing, held Harry secure but not too tight, and forced himself to calm down.

 

It worked like magic on them both, and Sirius took another calming breath and considered the situation.

 

James and Lily were dead, and he would grieve them later. Peter had to be dealt with and he wanted to do it himself, but Harry needed him more and came first, would always come first. He loved the boy, and James and Lily had died for him. No one would get the little one while Sirius drew breath, especially not Lily’s horrible sister. He had met them once, and that was no place to raise a child, independent of Sirius’s feelings about the matter. No. He had to stay calm and channel Moony as best as he could or, which usually was the smarter option anyway, ask Moony what he was supposed to do now.

 

The answer was short, not surprising at all, and fortunately very much what Sirius had had in mind as well.

 

“The motorcycle isn’t safe for a baby. I’ll come and fetch you both.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

[Under Headmaster Dumbledore’s watchful gaze Hagrid parked the flying motorcycle carefully.](http://blogginghaley.tumblr.com/post/134720171159/)

[“Right so, I don’t have the baby. But he’s safe. Sirius Black was at the house, he explained the whole thing to me. It was all Pettigrew, the Aurors are already tracking him down. And, er, Sirius told me to give you this.”](http://blogginghaley.tumblr.com/post/134720171159/)

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Sirius Black didn’t spend the next 12 years in a cell, tortured by Dementors, with only grudges and the knowledge that he was innocent to hold onto.

 

He grew up because that was what Harry needed, because it was about time he did. First there was explaining the whole thing to the Aurors and giving them all the information he had about Peter, of course, and then the more ordinary struggles, like finding a home suitable for raising a child, convincing officials that he and Moony were actually able to raise a child, convincing Moony to stop _helping_ with said officials – Remus had lived almost 20 years without ever hurting anyone, but himself, for fuck’s sake – and paperwork. So much paperwork, and Sirius wondered how much of that was because Dumbledore was a sore loser.

They found a small cottage in Ottery St Catchpole in Devon and were never so relieved as when Arthur and Molly Weasley, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix and parents of six sons, came into their lives, offering practical aid with Harry and the contact information of brilliant lawyer.

 

Said lawyer was a very surly Fae, who took great pleasure in bending wizarding and muggle laws to annoy the Ministry, and decided aiding Sirius and Remus would suit them just fine. In short order, they produced the last wills of James and Lily, which stated explicitly that Harry was to go to Sirius and Remus if the worst happened, and that Dumbledore had conveniently forgotten about, and forced the Ministry to make a reasonable list of regulations that allowed Remus to raise Harry. When Walburga Black died, they even found loopholes in Sirius’ disownment, securing them finances that meant what James and Lily had left Harry could be saved for their son.

 

Seeing the Fae interact with Kreacher and his mother’s portray – the screaming harder to miss than the silent conversations over tea – also made Sirius realise that it wasn’t just Remus or werewolves suffering under the very one dimensional laws, and that for all his disagreements with his family, he had turned not just one blind eye on such matters.

 

It started with looking closer at what was actually going on around him and reading up on a few things. Then he got into contact with the then still budding Equality Movement, and it forced Sirius to challenge much he had believed true, especially about himself. A too-honest-for-his-own-good Slytherin and a fiercer-than-a-lion Hufflepuff leading a social-political movement committed to improving the situation for all magical people – they were very insistent to start with them not being called “creatures” – while Sirius couldn’t even muster the courage to ask the man he was raising the child of their best friends with to marry him.

 

It certainly put things into perspective, and if his proposal went down in history as the most unromantic, awkward proposal ever, well, at least he finally got the words out.

 

*~*~*

 

Remus Lupin didn’t have to spend the next 12 years grieving all he had lost. He didn’t huddle in run-down apartments, avoiding everyone until Dumbledore coerced him into teaching. He grieved, yes, and never became quite comfortable with crowds, but he was never alone and, though he would never know it, even the wolf was a lot calmer and saner for having a pack. He lived in a house filled with laughter and learned to be domestic alongside Sirius long before the other finally got around to mention marriage.

 

Apparently, everyone except for Remus had seen that one coming, at which point Arthur Weasley dropped all subtlety and took him aside to suggest he talk to someone about it. While Remus could have continued to ignore feeling mostly numb where others laughed, he was aware enough that getting sad about one’s own engagement – and engagement he had wanted, but not dared to hope for – was not the norm, so he decided to give it a try.

 

It wasn’t easy, of course it wasn’t, but Arthur knew many odd people, who knew people, and one of them had a brilliant daughter they were absolutely certain could help. Margaret “call me Maggie” was a Squib and very frustrated with the wizarding world and how they treated those like her, but even more frustrated with the so-called healers who refused to even consider illnesses one couldn’t just wave a wand at.

 

Aside from the occasional rants on those topics, Maggie was indeed brilliant as a doctor in general and a therapist in special.

It was a revelation for Remus to discover he didn’t have to feel that way, that there was a name for his condition – one that had nothing to do with lycanthropy – and together they figured out a medication and how the interaction with the transformation worked, which was where their maybe most unlikely ally came into the picture.

 

*~*~*

 

If asked, Severus Snape would claim nothing changed for him at all, and at first, he might have been right. Then one early evening – a decent hour for working people, to say the least – Sirius Black stood in front of his door, calmly asking if they could talk, and Severus was too surprised to do anything but let him in and serve tea.

 

What followed was probably the weirdest hour of his life. Black did most of the talking, roughly outlining his upbringing, his hatred for everything he considered align with his mother’s believes, which he had transferred onto every Slytherin on the principle of the matter. He spoke of the cruelty of children and how none of that excused his behaviour in the past, but he hoped knowing the reasons would help Severus.

 

He actually apologised for said behaviour, at which point Severus considered calling it quits and going on a very long vacation somewhere far away and sunny, because Black sounded sincere, so obviously Severus was losing it.

 

When Black asked him for a favour, the other man felt a lot better about the whole situation. People grovelling because they wanted something from him wasn’t anything new, neither that said people reacted violently when he refused. Usually he didn’t even listen to what they wanted, but Severus made an exception here, expecting to feel some satisfaction from knowing the whole story. He waited for the satisfaction to set in when Black told how he and Lupin had adopted Lily’s son and tried to raise him right, but the Ministry made it difficult especially for Lupin, and Snape continued to wait when Black readily admitted that he absolutely couldn’t raise any child alone. It didn’t come; neither the expected violence when he refused. Black just sighed, nodded, and said that he understood and didn’t hold it against him. If their roles had been reversed, Black said, he wouldn’t even have let himself through the door.

 

Then he thanked Severus for listening, left, and didn’t return.

 

Severus spent the next week on autopilot, actively not thinking about anything in regard to this matter. Then he gave up, started to research and experiment, and three months later he stood in front of the door of a modest little house that was just as modest but homely inside.

 

Neither Black nor Lupin opened, but one Molly Weasley who gave him a critical once-over. Next thing he knew he sat a table, some red-haired child on his lab and Molly announcing that he looked like he could use a good homemade meal, like he hadn’t one in a while.

 

The confusion he felt was definitely worth seeing Black’s expression when he came home. His relieved tears when Severus agreed to help and presented the first potion did not bring Severus pleasure, and he stopped expecting it, forgetting with time that he had wanted to distance himself. It started as just a favour to make sure Lily’s son would be raised by people who had Harry’s best in mind and then it branched out to long arguments with Maggie about the difference between chemistry and potions and how to combine their skills to best help Lupin. He forgot after a while that it was a work-relationship and that it was Black and Lupin, not Sirius and Remus. He forgot that he was supposed to resent them. He forgot not to  feel included in the invitation to family dinners at the Weasley household – self-defence, really. He’d rather not have them at his door again, worried he might be ill – and to correct the children when they called him Uncle Sev.

 

Eventually, he even forgot to feel lonely.

 

*~*~*

 

Harry grew up sleeping in a real bed in his own room, knowing he was welcome to curl up between his fathers, and he loved to do so, be it for the comfort the few times he dreamed of a formless shadow, a nameless terror in the darkest hours of the night, or for no other reason than being surrounded by the familiar arms and smells and voices. He wore clothes that fit him as much as possible with his growth-spurts, and any holes he caused were mended. He played with his toys and his fathers or his cousins or Aunt Molly and Uncle Artie, and didn’t like to eat his vegetables.

 

He knew his parents had loved him more than words could say, and he was sad that they were dead, but he also knew his fathers loved him just as much, so that was alright. He also knew about his aunt, uncle, and cousin in Little Whinging, but there was no love lost between them. His fathers had taken him there once for a short visit. Harry had learned many new words that day[1], none of which he liked, so they didn’t go again, which was very alright with Harry. He much rather visited Uncle Ru, even if he always got misty-eyed when Harry called him that and hugged a bit too strong.

 

He could fly a broom before he could properly walk, and figured out how to turn into a wolfhound pup before he could write more than his name in colourful crayons. His fathers had cried both times; the first time in fear, the second in pride.

 

Of course, things weren’t always easy. People didn’t like his daddy because of the werewolf thing. They were mean to him although daddy was always polite. Dad wasn’t polite, which was not okay, and Harry had been raised right, so he knew he shouldn’t, but he still silently cheered his dad on whenever that happened, and held daddy when he smiled like he didn’t know what other face to make.

 

He may have bitten that one guy who had claimed a werewolf wasn’t fit to raise a child because his fathers were _the best_. Harry had still been young then and didn’t quite remember, but Uncle Sev thought it funny when he told him, which was probably not the best indicator that he had done right. The ice-cream was.

 

Uncle Sev was an odd one – very calm, silent, and serious; in other words, the complete opposite of the rest of them – but Harry liked that about him. He was also very smart, which was why Harry was surprised he didn’t know how to grow fur, and Harry was very proud to be able to teach his Uncle how to become Ruffles.

 

That day Harry learned what an Animagus was, that they had to keep it secret, and that ravens were surprisingly large and vicious if one pulled on their tail feather. Pup needed a bit longer to learn it.

 

 

When he turned eleven, Harry received his letter from Hogwarts, and it read “Harry James Potter”. His fathers had explained what that meant for _him_ , but it had been Uncle Sev who told him what other people would see in him and expect of him hearing that name. People would not think of him as just Harry. He would be the Boy Who Lived, a name in history books, and Harry didn’t like that person, so he wrote a letter to Minerva McGonagall. Shortly after, Harry James Lupin received an invitation to Hogwarts and a letter of apology along with the reassurance that the staff had been informed about the misunderstanding.

 

On platform 9 ¾ Harry had a large suitcase filled with books and clothes, his favourite stuffed animal, Wolfi, and a cage with the snow owl Uncle Ru had gifted him to his last birthday. His fathers saw him off, hugging too long and too tight, and made him promise to write and stay away from Dumbledore and his mad ideas, and reminded him that Uncle Ru and Uncle Sev where Mister Hagrid and Prof. Snape unless they were alone.

 

On the train, he was greeted by his friends, and they showed each other the new collector cards they had gathered since they last met. He knew about the Sorting Hat and the Houses, knew his entire family had gone to Gryffindor and that dad had loved it best, but when daddy said that it was perfectly alright when Harry was sorted into another house, dad had agreed, and Harry had no reason to doubt them. (He still asked the Hat not to put him into Slytherin so Uncle Sev wouldn’t get into trouble.)

 

It was difficult at first to hide Pup, to not ask Prof. McGonagall what the cat she turned into was called. He stayed behind, though, after the first lesson, to thank her for making sure everyone only ever called him Harry or Mister Lupin.

 

Every week he received a letter from his fathers, often one from Aunt Molli and Uncle Artie as well, and he answered them all. Sometimes the letters came late, and Harry noticed that around that time odd things were happening in the school and the headmaster got howlers, but he didn’t think that those things were related.

 

The troll at Halloween was an accident. They couldn’t have left Hermione to fend for herself, and after he told her that it wasn’t fair to blame Ron for reading slower than the others when it was clearly the fault of the words not holding still, she turned out very nice actually, and helpful. Totally worth the scolding he received for doing something so dangerous either way.

 

Fluffy was another accident, one he instantly told his uncles and fathers about, though he didn’t quite understand why they were so upset. The Cerberus wasn’t at fault for not knowing what to do with humans except bite them as he had been told, like he had with that really mean smelling one. He sure had loved to play with Harry, though, once he turned into Pup, so Harry asked Uncle Sev to tell Prof. Quirrel not to upset Fluffy again and decided adults were very odd indeed when Uncle Sev hurried away. Nevertheless, Harry stayed in his dorm room as he had been told, playing cards with Neville, Ron, and Hermione, and figuring it had been a good decision when DADA was cancelled for the rest for the year.

 

In second year, the headmaster got a lot of howlers, and when the message appeared on the wall on the second floor, a small army of Aurors searched the entire castle, and were quite stumped when Hermione solved most of the riddle for them, except for the matter of who, which Harry kept to himself, because he had promised Ginny, and Myrtle was very kind and only too happy to let the Aurors find the odd diary and spin tales of how it had ended up with her.

 

In the third year, nothing noteworthy happened, except that after Gilderoy Lockhart had turned out even less reliable than Quirrel, a woman insisting to be called Juliette and nothing else took the position of DADA-teacher. It was a bit of a scandal when it came out that she was actually an ancient vampire, and Harry didn’t know how, but he was very glad she found a way to keep her position, because she was a good teacher, protective, fair, and the way she treated really everyone, including the headmaster, like children was absolutely hilarious.

 

When at the beginning of the fourth year the headmaster informed everyone of the Tri-Wizarding Cup being held in Hogwarts, Dumbledore received many howlers every day, except when the Goblet of Fire spit out Harry’s name. Just a few minutes later his father stormed the castle and descended upon Dumbledore like a pack of wolves. Well, they were, technically, but usually not in a bad way. Apparently, Harry was supposed to feel embarrassed about that, but why should he mind getting hugged by his fathers and reassured that of course he wouldn’t have to take part in that suicidal tournament? He had never wanted to take part either way, and hugs were always great.

 

Things got a bit out of hand very fast after that, and Harry never got the whole story out of those involved, but apparently, the Tri-Wizarding Cup had involved a high-ranking Deatheater using a polyjuice-potion to infiltrate the Ministry. The solution had included a shot-gun and Voldemort’s head, and that was that. Mistress Juliette was very smug about it in any case, though she never said anything about it, and Harry decided for his peace of mind to discourage everyone from asking.

The Tri-Wizarding Cup was cancelled, of course, Dumbledore fired because of the repeated, and willful endangerment of students, and McGonagall became headmaster. Not everyone was happy about that change, but dangerous and strange occurrences outside of what could be considered normal for a wizarding school notable dropped after the change, which Harry approved of very much.

 

When Harry hit puberty, especially his dad got involved in his love life, which usually ended with both his fathers telling embarrassing and hilarious stories from their own youth, and looking back on that Harry considered himself quite fortunate he never developed a taste for sex or romance.

 

Harry finished school with a good degree, and after travelling the world to his heart’s content he settled to be a teacher in Hogwarts. He never married and had no children of his own, and laughed at everyone who told he had to be so lonely. He really wasn’t. He had his fathers, uncles, aunts, and he had scores of honorary nieces, nephews, and godchildren, and the students adored him. He was Prof. Lupin, known for being a vocal supporter of the Movement for Equal Rights for Magical People and his works on Werewolves and “The importance of turning around three times, and what else no one ever thought to mention about Animagi”. He drank tea with Hagrid every other day, and never stopped calling him Uncle Ru in private, just like Prof. Snape always remained Uncle Sev to him. He often visited his fathers and friends, and encouraged the stories about the Hound of the Forbidden Forest, sometimes hunting in a pack, other times joined by a large raven, and always herding over-curious students back to the castles when need be.

 

Harry James Lupin grew up knowing who he was. He was the son of James and Lily Potter, and the son of Sirius and Remus Lupin. And he was loved and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius and Remus are absolutely an old married couple, and you can’t tell me otherwise. Of all the animals Sirius could have turned into, it was a huge frigging dog. Dogs are domesticated wolves, for fuck's sake! And when they got married Sirius, hating his family as he does, definitely took Remus last name, and they properly adopted Harry. Hermione laughed a lot when she heard what Harry’s fathers are called, and Harry was very insulted until Hermione explained about Latin, stars and ancient legends. A whole lot of things made a whole lot more sense after that to Harry.
> 
> I have the theory that in order to turn into an animal it is necessary to give up a part of your humanity. Sirius explained in the third book that once he turned into a dog the Dementors weren't really interested in him anymore because they don't care about animals. That means something basic about his thoughts and emotions must have changed as well. So I believe it’s not just a change in appearance, but of your entire being and it goes both ways. It’s not like a split personality, but the memory transfer doesn’t work 100% and the animal forms rely a lot more on instincts than the human ones. You also can’t just turn it on and off. The form, yes, but there are mannerisms, habits, that stay. When angered Sirius will growl and fletch his teeth. Start scratching him behind the ears and he will do this crocked head thing when he listens but doesn’t actually understand a single word you say. And I bet you anything McGonagall’s office has a large beanbag in a sunny spot and it takes a lot out of her not to catch birds and drop them at the feet of people she likes.  
> That what I mean when Sirius referred to Padfoot like another person though they are the same.  
> Also, I believe magic doesn't only exist in the boundaries wizards set with wands and words, so little Harry sees how his dad (Sirius) changes from dog to man and back all the time and just mimics him. He doesn't understand why his fathers make such a fuss about it.
> 
> Harry taught Severus how to turn into an animagus, which turned out to be a raven Harry instantly calls Ruffles and it sticks. And before you ask: I really think a raven would fit Snape, not just because of the nose. It’s my theory that the magic chooses the form similar to the Patronus. A spiritual animal, if you will.
> 
> The "words" Petunia and Vernon used and Harry didn't like were homophobic, in case you couldn't guess. The Dursleys strike me as that kind of persons.
> 
> Ron having dyslexia was inspired by this post: http://harryjamesheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/154150864305/when-ron-frustrated-with-studying-for-newts-and
> 
> I really don’t think Harry would be happy as an Auror or live very long in that line of work. The boy needs a therapy, not a job that will only further his reckless and self-destructive behaviour.
> 
> Harry always struck me as aro-ace. I mean, in the books he never once showed any real interest in such things. In fact, the only times he showed passion was when it was about proving himself and arguing with Draco. It is arguable that considering he spent his teenage years in a war he had not the time or strength for it or that his sexual development was simply not described because it didn’t matter for the plot. All very reasonable, but why would he marry the sister of his best friend, who always was more a younger sister to him? (Rhetorical question. Don’t answer that.)
> 
>  
> 
> I have half a mind to say "fight me", but really, don't. I may not share or even understand your point of view and vice versa, but let's keep those discussion civil.


End file.
